YAY for Gatecrashers! Who doesn’t love a bit of fresh meat to spice up MKR which, let’s face it, is starting to look like The David and Corinne Show and, frankly, if we’d wanted to watch an ugly codger getting sexy with his uglier and younger wife, we’d just set up our binoculars outside Woody Allen’s house.

First up to have everyone over to trash their house, trash their looks and trash their cooking, are quirky blonde duo, Carly and Tresne. According to the footage, Carly is a cooking teacher who thinks that positive thinking is more powerful than a table full of whores gunning for your blood, and Tresne is a real estate agent who is constantly spelling out her name for her clients.

Anyhoo, from the looks of their menu these two have more than a little love for the humble beetroot and a desire to cause Rico to watch the show hovering above a bucket, because their entrée is a beetroot tart with – shudder – goat’s cheese mousse and their dessert, Caramel Divine, sounds suspiciously like it’s going to have caramel in it.

The Instant Restaurant is called Inspire and has mood ring napkins so that Chloe and Kelly can watch their mood shift from Cunty to Cuntier and drunk David can eye it blearily and then try and slide it over his penis. Aside from the mood rings, the walls are covered in Carly’s favourite ‘positive affirmations’ including Build it and They Will Come, Come With Me if You Want To Live, and I Will Not Stare at Corinne’s Face.

In the kitchen and it immediately becomes apparent that Tresne is no Chloe, because she’s making her own pastry, and Carly is messier in the kitchen than Manu is in the bedroom. Rico reckons her slatternly ways just might be their saving grace because there’s a chance a piece of nice food could accidentally fall into the dish and overpower the taste of that fucking Goat’s Cheese.

Cut to the guests arriving and the producers give us a quick introduction to the other newbies: emaciated food writer, Anna, whose food-tasting face gives Rico shades of the smug bitch in the Cruskits commercial, and her old-money-looking and completely sexy in a non-Deb-way mother, Cathy; and molecular gastronomy lovers, Josh and Danielle, who apparently quit their jobs in sales for the chance to have their food spat out on national television.

‘Hiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!’ everyone squeals when Carly and Tresne open the door, only to fall silent when they are led into the positive affirmations chamber and come to grips with the fact that this might spell very bad news about the taste of the food.

‘I feel like I’m being forced to think positive,’ grumbles Harry, before snapping that the one and only time he’ll agree to ‘feel the love’ is if it comes out of Bianca’s mouth right before she works him out like fucking Phar Lap. This concerns newbie Danielle who tells the cameras that she ‘wonders if the originals are friendly’ and that it would suck if they aren’t because neither she nor Josh thought to pack a capsicum spray or a brace of switchblades.

Into this fabulous atmosphere strides Skinny Pete and his oversize carry-on luggage, Manu, who take one look at the menu and start grilling everyone on how they feel about the goat’s cheese.

‘I really don’t like it’ murmurs ladylike Cathy, while Anna nods next to her and declares that a dish that makes all the diners get rushed to hospital for an immediate stomach pump would be simply marvellous, providing she gets a hot doctor who isn’t swayed by all that curves-are-beautiful bullshittery.

But here comes the entrée and it looks rather good – unless you’re Rico who is too busy howling over his bucket to make a coherent assessment.

‘My eyes went straight to the undressed rocket.’ Says dirty little slut Pete, who adds that, because of that, his erection got off to a ‘very healthy start’.

Even dirtier slut Manu says he ‘likes et’ but there was not enough goat’s cheese for him to smear all over his nipples and invite Danielle to lick off.

Elsewhere around the table and Anna is shocked that she hasn’t got any cutlery which makes Kelly roll her eyes to the heavens and mutter that she should try rocking up to a restaurant that doesn’t have any fucking CHAIRS. Meanwhile, her goat’s cheese hating mother is struggling with her gag reflex and the fact that, in addition to the missing cutlery, there also doesn’t seem to be anywhere to stash a discreet power chunder.

Back in the kitchen and Carly is going on about positivity again while Tresne struggles to actually get her to cook.

‘I just need you to do the parsnips, okay? Happy happy joy joy now cook the fucking PARSNIPS!’

‘Parsnips’ says Carly, ‘are like anus carrots. No amount of positivity can cover the fact that they taste like shit.’

Still, she gets down to it, while Tresne does the rest and, despite a near miss with the burned bottom of the parsnip puree pan which Carly SWEARS was Tresne’s fault for not holding enough joy in her heart, the main comes out looking pretty damn good.

‘Dis sauce’ says Manu, ‘is de best I ‘ave ‘ad in de competition!’. A sentiment that Pete quickly backs up and then garnishes by insisting their plating was chef-worthy and that, despite all the self-love crap on the walls, proves they might actually be serious contenders.

While a thrilled Carly and Tresne race back to the kitchen, the other guests tuck in and Anna takes the opportunity to demonstrate her considerable food writing expertise by repeating word-for-word what Manu said – minus the questionable French accent. David, on the other hand, has twigged that the other guests don’t like it when he calls the sauce ‘gravy’ and, naturally, it’s become his new favourite word.

‘This gravy needs more seasoning! I could cook better gravy than this gravy!’

While the other guests hiss in their chairs and beg him to switch to ‘the G-word that shall not be named’, Rico exchanges a long glance with the Dog and snarks that if the word ‘gravy’ gets their knickers in a knot, wait until someone cooks Vietnamese and David decides to break out the phrase ‘gook food’.

Back in the kitchen and Carly and Tresne are going over the various layers of their dessert which, when tasted all together, will hopefully send one or more of the contestants into a diabetic coma.

Apparently, of the two of them, Carly is the ‘dessert queen’ which means Tresne’s job is to curdle the caramel, get told off by Carly, and then do exactly the same thing on batch number 2.

‘What are you DOING?’ shrieks Carly. ‘You’re supposed to wait for it to COOL!’

‘She’ll be right mate!’ grins Tresne. ‘Fark! This shit is foaming like a rabid squirrel!’

And oddly enough, she’s right, because somehow the caramel uncurdles and after a brief worry about the too-thin butterscotch, out comes the dessert in all it’s ridiculously sugary glory.

Sure enough, the judges barely make it past the first mouthful before Manu’s feet start trying to tap their way the fuck out of this place.

‘First mouthful was orright’ says Skinny Pete. ‘But by the second I was already counting the calories and wondering whether you bitches have got any Actilax.’

‘Ummm… What’s Actilax?’ asks Carly, while Pete let’s out a stream of ‘Pffffft’s and gives Anna a ‘nowIknowYOU’REholding’ side-eye.

Speaking of equally skinny Anna, she’s done her best to look like she’s eaten some, while next to her her poor mother goes through the awkward motions of trying to remove the sticky popcorn from dentures.

Rico reckons he’s surprised Lady of the Manor actually ate some and that, maybe, like David, she was simply so drunk she wanted to see it was food.

Scoring time comes around and it’s sixes and sevens all round with the exception of Skinny Anna who takes advantage of her mum’s temporary lockjaw and awards a rather whoreish five – partly because the food was average, but mostly because forgetting one’s fork should be punishable by chilli glove fisting.

As for Pete and Manu, they agree on sevens for the goat’s cheese horror entree; an 8 (Manu) and a 9 (Pete) for the main; and a six and five for dessert which Manu reckons is because it made him sweat and Pete reckons is because Manu’s sweat is one of the Seven Great Horrors of the World.

Which, of course, gives them a rather comfortable final score of 74 which, unless the completely extra-terrestrial happens and Harry and Christo, David and Corrine, and Chloe and Kelly have learned how to cook, should see them happily into the next round.

Speaking of… It’s time for Chloe and Kelly’s so-called ‘redemption’!

The night starts and of course Crap by Chloe and Kelly wouldn’t be complete without some more footage of them doing yoga and yapping on about their plethora of mad skillz.

The Dog, who is known to sample its own excrement from to time, looks up hopefully at this announcement, but then remembers this is Chloe and Kelly we’re talking about and what’s the bet they can take a decent log and cook-fuck it to a shadow of its formerly brown glory.

Anyhoo, just like before their restaurant is all about that movie Leonardo Di Caprio really should have turned down – the only difference being a spot of torrential rain.

‘OMG!’ shrieks Kelly above the rising wind. ‘What if the pool overflows? Do you reckon we’d get extra points for changing our theme to The Perfect Storm?’

With their theme changed, it’s time to head into the kitchen and start preparation which, unlike last time, involves making their own pastry.

Anyhoo, a few things go wrong including the pasta machine being a clunky bastard and Kelly finding shell in the crab, but when it comes out it really does look sensational and Harry gushes to the cameras that ‘you eat with your eyes’ and right now his eyeballs are telling him to keep it the fuck coming!

‘Ah am extremmly ‘appy!’ Manu exclaims, adding that he’d totally ‘pull his hat off to you’ if only someone would invent a hat that didn’t completely fuck with his gel quiff. Petey agrees and says ‘this is what I love about MKR’ because nothing is more awesome than nasty bitches who everyone hates cooking a really good dish, and making all the other haters so agro they could walk outside and stab an orphan if it happened to walk past at the wrong time.

Back into the kitchen and onto the main which just happens to be confit chicken and, naturally, is barely on the bench before Manu comes strutting in demanding to know if they are as stupid as Felix and Jess.

‘No no!’ assures Kelly. ‘We’re using the leg and we’re cooking it for a whole 45 minutes!’

‘Errr, are you sure of dat time?’ queries Manu. ‘I ‘ave never ‘eard of dat short time.’

While Manu disappears for another urgent meeting with Personnel and Payroll, Carly is in the dining room saying that, she’s all for positivity and all, but – has anyone else noticed that brussel sprouts taste like three-day-old foreskin?

‘OMG so does!’ shrieks Christo, while Harry goes puce and mutters ‘last time you’ll be getting some of THAT you big-mouthed yapping cunt!’

Out comes the main and David immediately complains that it’s a single leg and that the only way he won’t end the evening hungry is if the dessert is brought out on the flat bed of a Mac Truck. Josh, however, reckons the lack of crispy skin is a sure sign that their confit skills are up there with Anna’s ability to ingest calories and, if that’s the case, Manu is going to blow his fucking stack!

‘Tell me de definition of Confit!’ orders Manu.

‘Well,’ says Kelly. ‘It’s, like, take a chicken leg, throw it in some oil and bung it in the oven, right?’

‘For ‘ow long?’ barks Manu.

‘Errrrr. 45 minutes?’

‘Wrong you incompetent Australian slut!’ shrieks Manu in triumph, before adding that the next time they want to ‘throw around fancy French words’, he’ll be giving his feedback with a semi-automatic, and if he’d been served this dish in a restaurant he would have paid with a mouthful of go-fuck-yourselves.

Skinny Pete is less harsh, but nonetheless agrees and says that he hopes they can finish on a high – or at least pass out some decent drugs so he can.

As the girls head back to the kitchen, Carly explains the concept of a ‘compliment sandwich’, which is essentially a nasty whore like Kelly, and two men lying through their teeth telling her she’s pretty just to get her in the sack.

Manu is utterly CHARMED by Carly’s concept and mutters to Pete that this could be a whole new way of rooting ugly women, and if he’s still got Sophia on speed dial – book him in for tomorrow night!

Back in the kitchen and it’s all about the cannoli’s that, to Rico’s terror, are filled with ricotta.

‘Why?’ he bleats with tears in his eyes. ‘It’s a dessert, not something you shove at fat kids at a birthday party!’

Anyhoo, he may not need to worry because the pastry is falling apart in the deep fryer and if Chloe can’t find a way to make it work, there’ll be nowhere for the ricotta to go!

‘This looks like a dog’s breakfast!’ she shrieks. ‘Mother of FUCK I’m hungry!’

‘Just make it work, bitch!’ snaps Kelly, busy with the second element of the dessert, an ‘espressotini’ that bogan-in-denial Kelly naturally pronounces with an ‘x’.

‘It’s a play on coffee and cake!’ she trills to the cameras. ‘You know, because everyone likes cake, and those who don’t will eat it when they’re pissed enough!’

Rico reckons this is potentially a smart idea for everyone other than David, whose liver is clearly experienced enough to spot a ruse and will no doubt slam down his drink, steal most of Corinne’s and still score them with his stingiest wank-hand.

Out come the plates and sweet mother of miniscule portions there’s only one cannoli on the plate! Their magnifying glasses in place, the judges tuck in and it’s not long at all before they’re presenting Chloe and Kelly with the evil eye and pronouncing it duller than sex with a South Australian.

Of the other contestants, David is typically unimpressed, while Lady of the Manor Cathy rather enjoyed it because she’s ‘not fond of sweet things’ and the flavour took her back to her youth when all the girls used to put natural yoghurt on their vaginas to ward off thrush and people who lived on the other side of the river.

Scoring time is rather to be expected with the scores riding between 7 (Carly and Tresne) and 4 (David and Corinne). With their final team score of 27, it’s rather unlikely they’ll get above 74, and after a brief flash of hope with two perfect tens for the entrée, it’s a steady slide downhill to a final score of 68.

Rico reckons they should be celebrating like a six thousand berth US Navy ship has just sailed into port, because the chances that Harry and Christo AND David and Corinne can cook above the level of a disoriented walrus are miniscule, and that means these two will live to whore another day!

The show ends with a preview of the next two slave over a hot stove: Josh and Danielle, and the reaffirmation that these two worship at the alter of science, rather than palatable cooking.